Chapter 14 #2
His hand then moved beneath the fine fall of her gown. He touched her with care at first, then with growing certainty when he felt how her body shuddered around his fingers.
Emily’s head tipped back against the paneling behind her, and her breath came unsteadily.
Emily felt her breathing grow ragged as his hand moved beneath her gown and found the inside of her thigh.
“Adam—”
He touched her through her undergarments first, his palm pressing flat, and she felt the heat of it through the thin layers. Then he curled his fingers, and she felt how wet she already was and knew from the way his breath caught that he felt it too.
He made a sound against her neck, low and almost guttural. She had never heard that sound from him before, and it rushed through her faster than any sensation his hand was stirring.
He was not unaffected either, and she understood it more clearly than anything. He was hard . She could feel it when he pressed his hips against hers, his erection unmistakable.
You absolute fool.
She could not decide if she meant him or herself.
His fingers moved to the edge of her undergarments and slid into her heat, and she grabbed the front of his coat with both hands. He stroked her slowly, his fingers sliding through her folds with the same control he brought to everything.
Emily felt it in her thighs, her stomach, and the back of her knees.
“Adam… please.”
“Shh…”
His fingers moved slowly until he found the spot that made her hips buck and paused there. Her grip tightened on him as he rubbed her bud, and she heard herself make a strangled sound.
“Adam—”
He dropped to his knees.
She understood what was happening a full second in advance and still was not ready. He pushed her dress up, pushed her thighs apart with both hands, and put his mouth on her.
Her head hit the paneling.
His tongue moved against her, and she felt each stroke travel the full length of her body. She could feel his hands gripping the inside of her thighs, holding her open and keeping her still when her hips kept bucking toward him. Every time she shifted, he held her firmer.
She was embarrassingly wet. She could hear it. Heat crawled up her face, and then his tongue circled her bud. Soon, the embarrassment disappeared.
Don’t stop.
Her fingers found his hair, and she held on as tight as she could. He responded to the pressure by sucking on her harder, and she bit down on her lip. It took all her restraint not to make a sound that would carry through the halls.
Then he slid one finger inside her, and her knees buckled.
His arm locked across her hips and held her upright as he worked her with both his mouth and his hand. His finger curled, and his tongue kept its rhythm, and it became too much and not enough at the same time.
Soon, Emily stopped caring about any of it. She was rocking against his face, and she knew it. She could not stop.
“Adam, I am going to?—”
The climax hit hard and fast, rolling through her. Her body trembled against his tongue, and he did not stop until he had wrung every last tremor from her.
For the better half of a second, none of them moved. It felt almost surreal, what had just happened, and if his hand still didn’t linger on her, he would swear that it had all been a dream.
Adam withdrew his hand eventually, straightened her dress, then smoothed it. He brushed her hair back into place and watched closely as she came back to the present. Her face was flushed, and her lips were swollen from his kisses.
He should have stepped back sooner.
Emily lifted her eyes to his. Her voice came soft and breathless and entirely brave. “Should I expect you in my room tonight?”
The question cut through him cleanly. It was entirely fair after what he had just done to her.
For one brutal moment, he wanted to say yes, wanted to drag her out of the ballroom and down the hallway and into the room he had denied himself on their wedding night.
He wanted to stop fighting and go all the way with her.
He wanted nothing more than to make love to her the way a starved husband should.
So it shocked even him when the next word escaped his lips.
“No.”
He saw the wound land on her face. There was no missing it.
Her expression changed almost immediately, enough to show pain before pride gathered itself and held.
She swallowed. “Really?”
He sighed. “I am sorry. It is quite complicated.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And is this because you do not want children?”
He shook his head. “Of course I want children.”
“So what Theodore said didn’t get to you? What he thought might happen if we eventually have children of our own?”
She had given him a chance to lie. To make the matter about the boy, about timing, about strain, about anything easier than the truth.
Adam heard it and still could not use it.
“No.” He forced the rest out before he could retreat from it. “On the contrary, it is because I’m worried.”
“For Theodore?”
“For the kind of father our children will have.”
Emily swallowed again. “What are you talking about?”
Adam looked away. He couldn’t imagine looking at her while he let the next words slip past his lips.
“My father threw my mother down the stairs,” he confessed.
The silence that followed was so thick that it took the last shred of his will for him to continue speaking.
“I heard her scream.” His throat tightened, but he kept going.
“I found her in a pool of her own blood.” He drew a breath and let it out slowly.
“I lived in that house afterward. Ate at that table. I walked those corridors and watched my father carry on as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t killed her. ”
Emily said nothing, and for some reason, her silence helped him more than any interruption would have.
“Did you… Did you see him push her?”
Adam scoffed. “I saw enough.”
He didn’t need to listen to know how hard Emily swallowed after that.
“People speak of war as if it were the worst thing a man can witness,” he said. “War felt better than home. It was cleaner and much… much simpler. At least out there, I knew who meant to kill me.”
The last words left him harsher than he had intended. He did not correct himself.
He looked at her then and saw on her face what he had both wanted and dreaded—understanding. It hurt him just as much as it helped him clarify the situation to her.
“That is what sits under all of it,” he rasped. “This was never just about children or marriage.” His mouth hardened. “I know what I feel when I am near you. I know how quickly it turns. I will not give that free rein and tell myself it is harmless just because I wear a wedding ring.”
Another silence followed, and this time, it was much more dreadful. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him, but for some reason, he also wanted nothing more than to tell Emily to speak. To say anything.
Emily’s eyes shone briefly. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, and a part of him was grateful for that. Then she spoke again.
“Thank you for telling me.”
He almost laughed at how cruel that statement felt.
Gratitude. Really? After all this?
“It only explains the situation, Emily,” he said. “It does not solve it.”
“No, it does not.”
Adam balled his hands into tight fists. She was right. Truth did not undo the damage. It only described it. He had frightened her, touched her, denied her, and now handed her the history that made him what he was. None of that became gentler because she could finally see the wound at its center.
Emily lowered her gaze for one second, then raised it again. “If you do not mind, Duke, I am quite tired. I shall bid you good night.”
She did not wait for him to dismiss her. She only turned and walked out of the ballroom with her head held high and her steps steady, carrying his confession with her and leaving him rooted to the spot.
Great. Just great.
Truth, it seemed, had not helped either of them.